


By the Candlelight

by blueboxesandtrafficcones



Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2018 [10]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: 1533, F/M, Greenwich Palace, Henry VIII - Freeform, Historical, Sex In A Palace, historical setting, post-Krop Tor, sex by candlelight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27922504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueboxesandtrafficcones/pseuds/blueboxesandtrafficcones
Summary: A mis-landing by the TARDIS puts them directly in the path of King Henry the Eighth - and he has his eye set on Rose.  The Doctor is determined to not let him win.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Series: 31 Days of Ficmas 2018 [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1200850
Comments: 11
Kudos: 51
Collections: 31 Days of Ficmas 2018





	By the Candlelight

**Author's Note:**

> Day 10 of 2018's 31 Days of Ficmas.
> 
> Prompt: candles

They let the chambermaid lead them to a suite of rooms, waiting until she stoked the fire, curtseyed, and closed the door behind her to relax.

“Well, this is something,” the Doctor commented idly, throwing himself on the mattress before bouncing right back up on his feet. Pulling out the sonic he scanned the bed, after a moment giving a nod of satisfaction. “Clear.”

“Oh, good, at least the _bed_ won’t try to kill us,” Rose rolled her eyes from where she stood by the fire. It was freezing in the palace, bursts of cold air coming through the shut but unsealed windows, rattling the frames and making the candles splutter.

“It was a minor misunderstanding,” the Doctor protested, sticking his hands in his pockets as he made his way to her. “To be fair, we _did_ burst out of the forest directly in front of the king. Who wouldn’t take that as an assassination attempt?”

“Thank God for the psychic paper, is all I’ll say,” she retorted, rubbing her arms vigorously. While the 16th century gowns were beautiful, her shoulders were bare leaving her chilled despite the warm fire and long sleeves.

“C’mere.” Removing his suit jacket he wrapped it around her shoulders before pulling her into his chest, holding her tightly against him. “Better?”

Rose hummed. While he didn’t have much in the way of body heat to warm her, the jacket was a solid barrier against the wind and just being alone with him, pressed together tightly, was enough to heat her blood. Her nose found the gap between his shirt and neck, nuzzling there.

He let out a long sigh, arms tightening around her, and she smiled against the knot of his tie. “You don’t think he’ll try to come in here, do you?”

“Who?”

“Henry. The _king_.”

The Doctor tensed for a moment before forcing himself to relax. “No. And if he does, well, I’m already here, aren’t I? Besides, he’s had a rough day.”

“Why?”

“What?”

The comfort of being warm in his arms combined with the way he’d begun to sway her gently made her eyelids heavy, but she kept enough presence of mind to repeat, “Why? What was so bad about his day?”

The Time Lord stayed silent, making her tense.

“Doctor, please.”

He sighed, resting his chin on the top of her head. “The queen gave birth today.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“It was a girl.”

“Ah,” Rose grimaced, searching her mind for the story of Henry the Eighth. “Mary?”

“Elizabeth.”

“Oh!” That said everything. Elizabeth, the baby who was supposed to be a boy, the son to make the turmoil and Church of England worth the blood and sacrifice. Elizabeth, last of the Tudor rulers, who lived in constant fear of being murdered until the day she died. “So, Anne Boleyn is queen, then?”

“Yes. Well, for another two years, eight months, and twelve days. Well, eleven days thirteen hours now. Impossible to believe what ridiculousness this country was put through for the sake of a healthy son who will never be born. I’ve half a mind to say, ‘Oi, Harry, it’s _your_ poor swimmers why you’ve got this problem, not your wives’ fault. Quit cutting their heads off!’ Course, that would just get _us_ executed.”

“Yeah, let’s try to avoid that,” Rose rolled her eyes. “I have a strict once-per-trip rule, remember?”

He scoffed. “Bor- _ing_. Live a little!”

“That’s the point!”

They pulled back enough to meet the other’s eyes, before bursting into laughter. When they calmed again Rose rested her head over his left heart, sighing as she sank into him. “That poor little girl. Life’s not easy in this time, or any really, but she’ll still have it harder than most.”

“‘Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown’,” the Doctor quoted. “Henry the Fourth, but still fitting.”

Rose perked at that as an idea crossed her mind. “Is Shakespeare around yet? Could we see a show while we’re here?”

“No, he won’t be born for another thirty… one years, and it’s another twenty after that when he moves to London and gains fame. Sorry.”

The Doctor’s hands drifted lower, settling over her bum, and she giggled against his shoulder. “You’ve wandering hands there, my dear.”

“When in Rome. This is Court, there’s a lot of groping and bedhopping. The King being the most prolific of them all.”

“Right… he had lots of bastards, didn’t he?”

“A few, most of whom died. His daughters, Mary and Elizabeth, were easily the longest-living. Mary died at 42, after a reign of 5 years. Elizabeth lived to 69, queen for more than 44 years. The daughters he never wanted were in the end his greatest legacy.”

“Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“Maybe we can stop talking about this?” Rose suggested, running her hands over his back as she pressed kisses to his adam’s apple. “Move on to something else?”

“Like what?”

“Mhmm… you mentioned groping and bedhopping,” she teased, squeezing his bum.

“Oh, right! So Henry is well known for having multiple mistresses, Anne and Jane being more famous ones for becoming wives but were just two of many. Even when he was happily married to the first Catherine-”

“No,” she interrupted, turning and leading him towards the bed, “no more history lessons. I was thinking more along the lines of us acting out some of the love scenes from historical movies. You know, making love in a four-posting, the fire roaring, lots of moaning and sweaty, writhing bodies.” Rose stopped to kiss him deeply, smiling against his lips when he began to reciprocate.

“Okay.”

They made their way to the side of the bed, standing there kissing for long moments. He tensed a moment before the door to their room creaked open, pressing their mouths more firmly together and pinching her side.

Rose took the hint, moaning brokenly against his mouth and only partially acting, sighing dramatically as he worked his way to her neck. Carefully peering out through nearly-shut eyelashes, she saw Henry standing in the doorway watching, a scowl on his face. She leaned back on the mattress, pulling the Doctor on top of her, as they continued to kiss and run their hands over each other until the king got the hint, slamming the door shut as his stalking footsteps echoed down the stone hallway.

“Is he gone?” Rose whispered, and the Doctor nodded slowly.

“I think so,” he murmured, kissing her again before straightening with a groan. He tiptoed to the door, poking his head out, before shutting and bolting it. “There we are, no more interruptions. He decided to try his luck with the woman next door instead.” He returned to her, crawling on the bed beside her as they stared at each other.

“Good thing you said we were married,” she said shakily, “and insisted on sharing a room.” Somehow she doubted saying ‘no’ would be an acceptable answer to the king’s proposition.

The Doctor shrugged one shoulder, settling his palm on her stomach over her dress. “I know how it works. Put them in separate rooms, then there’s no husband to protest. The next morning he gets property, or money, or a title in thanks for his wife’s ‘service’. It’s barbaric, but that’s how it is.”

“I know my time period’s still got a long way to go towards equality,” Rose drawled, “but it’s a hell of a lot better than this. And has indoor plumbing.”

The Doctor chuckled. “I agree.”

They gazed at each other for a long minute, Rose watching the firelight flicker over the Doctor’s intense expression. “So, how does this work?”

“Sex? Same as at home,” he teased, leaning forward to kiss her.

“I meant… all this,” Rose waved her hand, gesturing towards the candles burning throughout the room and the fireplace. “Do we just blow them out when it’s time to sleep?”

He nodded. “The fire stays on, of course, ‘cause we’d freeze to death otherwise, but you blow out the candles. Some people will leave them burning until they die out, but that can cause fires and is generally a bad idea.”

“Oh is it?” Rose teased, rolling onto her side to face him. “You don’t say.”

He growled, forcing her onto her back as he moved on top of her. “You talk too much.”

“Oh, I do apologize my lord,” she adopted a breathy tone, widening her eyes comically. “Tis verily a forsaken habit, forsooth.”

The Doctor wrinkled his nose. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Right. Er…” Rose fumbled for an idea, before a wicked smile crossed her face. “If what exits my mouth does not please you, my lord, perhaps you may have something to stopper it up with?”

It took him a moment to get her meaning, eyes going wide as he groaned. “Aye, I do, common wench,” he tried to play along, before shaking his head. “Erm, no, that’s not- sorry. Uh, yes, fair maiden, I have something for you to occupy yourself with. Better?”

Rose rolled her eyes, shoving him away before standing from the bed. “You’re very bad at this. Just get me out of this dress, would you?” She turned, and he sat on the edge of the bed behind her to undo the laces.

He worked steadily, occasionally pressing kisses to the back of her neck until she could shove the dress down and off, leaving her in a shift.

“Your turn.” She gestured him off the bed, taking her time to strip him of his suit until he stood before her in just his pants. Looking around at the floor, seeing it was nothing more than stone covered with straw, she grimaced. “On the bed.”

They climbed back up, settling in the middle with the Doctor near the wall.

“Right.” Rose pushed him back against the pillows, encouraging his legs to lie straight as she settled on his lap. Rocking gently against him she kissed him until he was desperate, fingers clutching her hips tightly enough to leave bruises before she began to mouth her way down his body.

“You don’t have to-” he tried, but she merely waved her hand.

“Want to,” she promised, easing his pants down his hips and tossing them on the floor in the direction of their abandoned clothes. “Mhmm.” She took him in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the head of him as he sighed, burying one hand in her hair.

“I bet every bloke in this castle wishes he were me right now,” he muttered, watching her work with heavy eyelids.

Rose popped off with a wet sound, snickering. “This is before toilet tissue and frequent bathing; every woman in this castle would be _happy_ to service you instead of whatever fat, old, misogynistic bloke’s in her bed tonight, harassing her. You said the king’s in the room next door? Bet she’s not nearly as happy with him in her mouth as I am with you in mine.”

The Doctor pretended to consider that. “Then again, there _were_ a few beautiful but miserable duchesses at the feast tonight…”

Rose flicked his hip before dragging her fingernails over the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. “Oi. One woman in your bed’s worth two down the hall, loverboy. And this one’s worth the whole damn castle.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “There’s a crowned Queen of England hidden away somewhere in this palace, and her newborn daughter will someday be queen in her own right.”

“Yeah, but I can wear trousers,” Rose retorted. “And vote. Own property. Shag whoever I damn well please. Use birth control.”

“True.” In a move too fast for her to process he flipped them, leaving Rose on her back with the Doctor kneeling between her thighs. “And, by your time society has, well, _mostly_ progressed to the point where women are free to expect and demand their own pleasure, instead of being the source of a man’s as they are here.”

He pulled her shift up, Rose wriggling around until they pulled it over her head together, throwing it to the side. “Much better,” he approved, sliding his hands along her thighs and stomach as greedy eyes drank her in. “Gorgeous.”

Rose sighed, letting her legs fall open and shivering as a cool breeze brushed over her heated center. “Less talking, more tonguing.”

He snickered, moving down the bed to stretch out on his front. “Patience, Dame Rose.” He pressed his lips to her belly button, leaving wet kisses along her stomach as his fingers teased her. “In this time period, the best a woman could hope for was enough attention from her lover to make her wet enough for the act to be comfortable, let alone pleasurable.”

“I certainly hope you intend to do better than _that_ ,” Rose shot back, stretching her arms out to the sides and letting her eyes flutter closed.

Not bothering to reply his mouth closed over her and she groaned, back arching.

“Shit.”

He chuckled against her, the vibrations making her sigh with pleasure as he worked.

A strangled moan emanated from the room next door, and they both froze in surprise. Rose’s eyes fluttered open to meet his, and they burst into laughter.

“Maybe he’s better than I thought,” Rose teased, bending one knee and drawing it up. “Care to compete?”

A moment later the sound of a headboard meeting the wall began to echo, a punishing rhythm that had the woman wailing pleas and curses. It was a strange thought, that the _king of England_ , a well-known one at that, was fucking a woman on the other side of the wall.

Rose’s stomach bottomed out, surprisingly turned on by the sounds. “Doctor, please,” she said breathlessly.

He frowned, nose wrinkling as he looked between her and the wall behind her. “This isn’t weird to you? He tried to have you tonight instead, remember?”

She shrugged, desire pooling in her veins. Overhearing someone else was usually a turn off, but in this moment it just made her want him more, want this couple next door to hear _them_. “Is it too much for you?” Maybe it was a dangerous game, but she wanted this king who thought himself God, who murdered dozens of people, friends, lovers, and enemies alike to get what he wanted, to hear someone else make her cry out in pleasure greater than the woman he was with.

The Doctor pursed his lips, but before he could answer the king let out a shout of pleasure like any other man, all noise stopping. “That didn’t last long.”

“Shall we give them something to try for?” Rose teased. She hadn’t been timing it, but it couldn’t have been more than two minutes. _Not_ impressive. “Show them how it should be?”

The Doctor looked around the room, taking in the sparse furnishings, before shrugging. “If you want.”

She nodded eagerly.

“Right, erm, on your knees. Turn around.” Rose scrambled to obey, bracing herself against the wall as he came up behind her, nudging her legs farther apart. “Sure?”

She bumped her hips back against his, arching her back. “Yes.”

He melded his torso to her back, pressing them together, one arm wrapping around her waist as his other hand guided him inside her. Once seated he gave a few experimental thrusts before adjusting their stance slightly.

“Ready?” When she nodded he planted his hand against the wall for leverage, slamming his hips against hers and drawing a ragged breath from her at the force. The headboard moved slightly, tapping the wall, and he made another adjustment.

On the next thrust the headboard made a noise, Rose humming at the sound. One more shift backwards had her bent over, braced on her hands as he pushed forward. This time they heard a loud ‘thwack!’, and Rose grinned victoriously.

“Loud enough?” he muttered.

“Perfect.”

He started to move, forceful thrusts shoving the headboard against the wall with a satisfying noise every time. Rose began to moan loudly, the volume mostly for show, hanging her head and concentrating on the building pleasure. She would never say she was an exhibitionist, she usually preferred total privacy, but tonight it was hot and dirty and a total turn on.

Before she met the Doctor, she and her friends would try to attend the same clubs and parties as Prince Harry. None of them had any real expectations past maybe a snog, though Keisha had plenty of fantasies of hooking up with him.

Now here she was, in Greenwich Palace in the 16th Century, getting thoroughly shagged by an alien as Henry the Eighth, King of England, listened through a thin wall. How her life had changed.

“All right?” the Doctor muttered, shifting his grip on her hips as she shook with repressed laughter.

“Mhmm,” she managed, “I love- our life.”

“Me too,” he agreed after a moment’s hesitation, enough for her to realize he’d caught her slip up. “Close?”

“Yeah.” Balancing herself on her left palm, Rose brought her right hand to where they were joined to help herself along. “Mhmm, _yeah_.”

The Doctor’s movements were losing their rhythm, his grunts growing louder, and a flickering behind Rose’s eyelids made her eyes open. Glancing to the side in search of the shadows, she watched as the candle flame flickered, realizing dimly that the force of the headboard meeting the wall was creating a breeze that threatened to blow out the candle.

He froze behind her, letting out a low, choked moan, collapsing onto Rose and taking her down with a yelp. Spread-eagled beneath him, she watched as the candle gave out with a shudder of its own.

Panting, Rose was conscious of everywhere their bodies touched, pouting as she realized he’d left her unsatisfied for once. “Doctor,” she whispered, patting his hand, only to get a snore in response.

Huffing, she wriggled her way out from beneath him, locating a pitcher of water and a basin tucked in a corner. Cleaning herself up she pulled her shift back on, climbing into what little free space his lanky, sprawling frame left and turning on her side to watch him. The room was dark but for the light from the fire, and with a sigh, she snuggled down next to him.

Still revved up and no hope of assistance, she bunched the shift up around her waist and hooked her leg over his bum, fingers disappearing between her own thighs.

_If you want something done right…_

* * *

Rose woke to the sensation of lips on her inner thigh, her muscles instinctively tensing as she struggled to fully come to.

“Shh, it’s just me,” the Doctor’s voice came from the dark, a hint of apology in his voice. “Sorry.”

“Thought you might be someone else,” she whispered back, relaxing as she recognized the mouth moving over her skin.

“Didn’t mean to pass out on you like that,” he said sheepishly. “Haven’t slept since Krop Tor.”

“It’s okay.” Rose didn’t need to see for her fingers to find his hair unerringly in the dark. “You needed a rest, clearly.”

“Mhmm.” He sucked at her inner thigh for a moment, long enough to leave a mark. “Still. Let me make it up to you.”

“Shouldn’t we be sleeping? Isn’t it the middle of the night?”

“For millenia humans have had a split sleep cycle,” he started in what she had long since dubbed his ‘professor’ voice. “They would sleep for about four hours, then wake up for an hour or two. At this point they would relax, maybe entertain themselves for a while, do some one A.M. existential thinking, or shag. Then they’d sleep for another four hours, until roughly dawn. Wasn’t much to do during the hours when the sun was set, not everyone could afford candles or see well enough in the moonlight.”

Rose nodded, wondering if he could see her smirk in the dark. “So you’re just trying to fit in, is what you’re saying.”

The sheets rustled as he moved up her body, stretching out on top of her. Her knees instinctively parted, legs wrapping around his waist as he settled against her. “Rose.”

“Hmm?” She kissed him leisurely, sucking on his tongue to distract him as she hiked the shift up to her hips.

“Unh.” He grunted, hips rocking down against her, making her smile at the unconscious motion. _A bloke is a bloke._ She smoothed her hands along the soft skin of his back, rubbing at the knots she found there before clutching his bum.

“You gonna shag me silly or what?” she whispered in his ear, pulling the lobe between her teeth and biting gently, making him groan loudly.

“Uh huh.” He fumbled between them for a moment to line them up, sliding home easily. Propping himself up above her on his forearms, he lowered his head to nuzzle the neckline of her shift down until her breasts were free, mouthing one nipple to a peak before moving to the other, never lingering on one too long before returning to the other. His hips kept a controlled pace, slowly fucking her until she was wild for it, writhing beneath him and begging, nails scoring along his spine. She was whimpering steadily, hips rocking up against him, back arched to push herself closer.

“Doctor, please!”

Steadying himself on one arm he skated his other hand up her arm, down her torso to grope her breast before continuing on its way. Detouring to swipe over her clit and wring a cry from her lips, he brought it finally to rest on her knee, guiding it away from his hip and up until her ankle rested on his shoulder. The change in angle was almost perfect, and she was _so_ close.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” she panted in encouragement, fighting the urge to reach between her own thighs. This was supposed to be about him making it up to her; he had to finish the job.

Once her ankle was secure he trailed his fingers slowly up her leg, teasing at the back of her knee before ultimately returning to her clit. One firm press against the nub was enough, and she came with a shout of relief.

Rose sagged all at once, boneless with pleasure, and the Doctor stopped moving, keeping himself propped up above her. “Good?”

“As apologies go, it’s… satisfactory,” Rose said, breathless, before snorting at the pun. “Ha, get it? Satisfactory?”

“I happen to think that was a bit more than ‘satisfactory’,” he said indignantly, and she could just make out the curve of his lip as he pouted. “Groundbreaking. Earthshattering. Ruining-other-men-for-you-forever.”

“It was good.” She laughed as he made a disgusted sound. “Better than any other bloke I’ve had.”

“That doesn’t mean much,” he muttered, “you’ve complained about their lack of bedroom prowess enough.”

Rose flicked his ear. “You gonna finish and let me go back to sleep or what? You may only need four hours every few weeks, but I need more than that.”

“Fine,” he huffed, sitting up straight and shifting his legs around to be comfortable. “Just give me a minute.”

“Such a romantic,” she rolled her eyes as he began to thrust, though her mouth fell open when his thumb found her, rubbing tight circles. “Oh, _shit_.”

They came together, twin groans painting the air of the otherwise silent bedroom. The Doctor leaned forward, kissing her stomach, before wrenching himself away. He found the basin and pitcher in the dark, cleaning them both up before curling up beside her.

“Good night,” Rose whispered, nestling against his chest, and he kissed the top of her head.

“We should do this more often.”

“Shag in the middle of the night? We do _that_ plenty.”

“I meant to candlelight.”

“Oh. Okay.”

They next morning they were politely escorted out of the palace and banned from returning by an uncomfortable yeoman of the guard, the Doctor breathlessly explaining the history of the position as they legged it for the TARDIS.

He was still talking when they made it to their room, bursting in to find hundreds of lit candles decorating the space.

She quickly found a better use for his gob.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


End file.
